There are children holding hands in a circle. In the middle, a single child stands. The child wears a blindfold but there are painted eyes on the blindfold. The eyes are black and staring, edged with red. The child in the middle turns in a circle, hands outstretched. All the other children dance in a wider circle around her. They sing a song.

“As long as the circle holdsThe futures can be foretold.You must be hard of heartTo tear the circle apart.”

It looks like a merry game. Each child in the outer circle shouts a sentence or a phrase. I cannot hear what they are saying, but the blinded child can. She begins to shout back at them, her words torn by a slowly rising wind. “Burn it all.” “The dragons fall.” “The sea will rise.” “The jewel-strewn skies.” “One comes as two.” “The four shall rue.” “Two come as one.” “Your reign is done!” “Forfeit all lives.” “No one survives!”At that last shout, a gale bursts from the child in the middle. Bits of her fly in all directions and the wind picks up the screaming children and scatters them far and wide. All becomes black save for one circle of white. In the center of the circle is the blindfold with its black eyes staring, staring.